The Spaces Between Everything
by Stratagem
Summary: Clarice survived, but she disappeared into a space between places. While she struggles to regain control of her powers and get back to reality, she learns about others like her. Getting back might be an adventure across time and space, but Clarice is going home. She can hear home calling in a desperate voice that whispers her name and knows she's not truly gone. Post 2x14.


Disclaimer: I don't own The Gifted.

A/N: Clarice ISN'T GONE, I refuse to believe it, so here, have a fic while I deal with my denial and multiple theories.

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**The Spaces Between Everything**

Chapter 1

Warmth. Something soft tickled Clarice's nose, and she rolled over to her right, gathering the blankets to her chest as she snuggled into John. Or tried to. Instead of bumping into the rock solid pecs of her boyfriend, she nearly fell off the side of a narrow cot. She had to grab the wooden edge of it to keep from rolling onto the floor.

"What the hell—" Clarice gasped and sat up, patting her stomach and then shoulder as she looked for the bullet wounds that riddled her. They had punched right through her like she had been a paper doll. How many times had she been shot? Where was she? What was going on?

Oh, God, that had hurt, blood had been everywhere, her blood, it had been splattered across John's devastated face—

He had been reaching for her, she had been on her knees, the pain driving her to the gritty floor of the sewers as more energy was pulled from her. It almost hurt more than the wounds, the feeling of the portal vortexes ripping at her, tearing open her powers like the bullets through her skin. She couldn't control the energy, and it had run rampant like acid in her veins until something else had taken over, turning the pain into comfort as she fell into the portal.

Where was John? Was he all right? They hadn't been packing light fire power. But he was okay, right? Did he and Erg get away okay? Was Faith all right? She hoped Faith was all right, she had seemed fine.

"John?" she croaked, her voice scratchy.

Had he caught her? John had probably caught her and pulled her away at the last moment, and Caitlin must have patched her up. Clarice reached under the camisole she was wearing and touched…skin. No bandages, no stitches, just puckered skin. No way.

She had been shot three times? Four times? Was she supposed to have kept count? Her fingers scrabbled now, hunting for the holes that she knew had been punched through her back. Nothing except raised skin. It was as if the wounds had been healed for a few weeks, but she knew they were fresh. She couldn't have been out that long, could she?"

Fear rushed through her.

"John!"

Clarice looked around the room for him as she swung her legs over the side of the cot. He wasn't there. No one was. It was a small and cozy empty room, with walls that looked like they were made out of some kind of light wood. They were covered in papers and drawings and bits of cross-stitch, and there was a table on the other side of the room. A couple doors. Bundles of dried flowers hung from the ceiling. A stuffed animal was crumpled on the ground next to the bed, an old floppy sad-eyed puppy that looked vaguely familiar.

She stood up and instantly regretted it as her legs crumpled beneath her. Her chin grazed the edge of the cot as she hit the floor, but she managed to hook her arm against the frame so she didn't sprawl out completely.

Something creaked behind her, and sunlight flooded into the room as one of the doors opened, sending the sunbeams racing across the faded carpet and dashing over her. She shrunk back and blinked against the light, unaccustomed to the brightness after a couple weeks in the sewers.

"What's going on?" she demanded in her creaky old lady voice. Oh shit, had she been asleep so long she was elderly now? In a daze, she looked down at her hand, checking for wrinkles and sun spots. Nope, she was good. "Where's John?"

"Good morning, sleepyhead," said a calm, amused voice. "Not sure who John is. Or who you are for that matter…"

Clarice frowned and looked up, tightening her grip on the edge of the cot. A middle-aged woman stood in the doorway, framed by the sunlight. She stepped inside, and Clarice caught a glimpse of two kids peeking through the door before they both sped off.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the woman said, leaving the door open behind her. She spread her hands open in a gesture of goodwill, but Clarice wasn't one to trust easily.

"Yeah, and I guess I'll just take your word for it," she groaned. Unhooking her arm from the cot, she settled on the floor and scooted so she could press her back against the wall.

"You could," the woman said, "Or you could just consider the fact that you're not a bleeding, mostly dead mess anymore. Maybe that's a point in my favor? Though that wasn't me, exactly."

"Could you slow down?" Clarice asked. John would've have been at her bedside if he was there, and knowing he wasn't put her on edge, even with everything they had gone through lately. "I don't understand what's going on."

"What's the last thing you remember?" the woman asked. She came closer and then sat down on the floor in front of Clarice. She was wearing bellbottoms and a sleeveless shirt, both in shades of orange. Her grey-streaked copper hair was caught in a braid that she pushed back behind her shoulder. "You have to remember something, right? Details shouldn't start fading right away."

Clarice narrowed her eyes. "Tell me about this place first."

"Ooo, I'm not sure you're ready for that," the woman said, smiling and drawing a breath through her teeth at the same time.

Clarice paled, and the woman held up her hands, drawing up onto her knees. "Oh, no, no, you're not dead. This is just…a place."

Clarice put her head back against the wall. "Wow, it's all clear to me now." This should've been the time for a headache to start creeping in.

"I'm sorry, we don't get many visitors that stay," the woman said, "So, regrettably, we don't have a welcome script prepared."

Her gentle sarcasm made Clarice look over at her again. She had sat back down on the floor cross-legged, her elbows resting on her knees.

"Fine. But you could tell me something. Anything."

"I know this must be overwhelming for you, but we really don't mean you any harm. I'm Elspeth Cole."

"Elizabeth?"

"Close," the woman said with a grin. "Elspeth. Or just El works. It was a family name."

"El, then," Clarice said, "Can you tell me what's going on? Like how I got here?"

"I can't exactly tell you that, it's different with everyone," El said, letting her hand flutter through the air. She was wearing simple rings on each finger, and they glinted when they caught the sunlight from the doorway. "But you've been here for two of our days."

_Our_ days? That was a weird way of putting it. Her frustration and annoyance must have been clear on her face because El sighed.

"I really am sorry, this is all going to be very confusing at first, but you'll get used to it," El said. "Are you thirsty?"

Now that she mentioned it, her throat was pretty damn dry. That might've been why it sounded like she had swallowed sandpaper. Clarice finally nodded.

El smiled and stood up before holding both hands out to Clarice. "Come on, I'll help you. You'll probably be weak for a while, you lost a lot of blood."

Clarice hesitated before putting her hands in El's. "About that…how am I not dead?"

"You know how you mentioned slowing down earlier? We might want to do that, it'll be easier for you. It's a good idea, going slow," El said gently. "Let's focus on the water first, then we can move through the rest of it. Slowly."

Clarice wanted to snap at the woman and demand some answers, but she had a feeling she wouldn't get anything from her at the moment. She let El pull her to her feet and then hated how she had to lean into the older woman. Shuffling forward at a pace that Clarice set, they made their way to the front door and out onto a small porch. When they reached the steps, Clarice had to reach out and grab a gnarled wooden beam for extra support as the sight stole her breath.

Overhead, the sky swirled with a thousand colors that raced back and forth, sparking and crashing like waves and exploding silently across an impossible galaxy of energy. She could feel it pressing against her skin now, as powerful as the light she had thought was from the sun. When she pulled her attention from the sky, she saw mountains in the distance, tall and deep blue and capped with snow. A lake stretched out beside the cabin they had stepped out of, rolling back toward the mountains. More energy leapt from the lake, arching overhead and disappearing like a rainbow. On the opposite side, a forest rose, but by the way it glinted in the light from overhead, it looked like some of the trees were made of glass or crystal.

"I think I need to sit down," Clarice said, and El helped her sit on the steps as tears stung her eyes. "Where…"

"It's okay, you're okay," El said, her voice gentle and devoid of any sarcasm now. "It's a lot to take in at first, isn't it?"

Clarice pulled her hand away from El and leaned into the beam, her gaze unfocusing. This couldn't be real. This was impossible. "Do you make illusions? That's—or a telepath?" She shot a glare at El. "Esme?"

Confusion darted across El's face, and she shook her head. "No, no, this is very real. This is a place you know, but you've never actually been here before. You just borrow space from here sometimes. It'll feel more familiar soon."

Clarice reached up and covered her face, more confused than she had been before. "Please stop talking if you're not going to make any sense."

"You can teleport, right? Or teleport things? Or make portals? Rip through time and space in some way or other?"

That caught her attention, and she lifted her head. El was staring at her with wide blue eyes. "We all can. This is where you don't go to, but you go _through_. This is the crossing place."

Clarice was quiet for a moment. "Are you…are you saying I'm inside of one of my portals?"

El swirled a lazy finger in the air, making concentric circles. "More like you're inside all of your portals at one time. Welcome to one of the most popular rips in time and space. We call it the Clearing."


End file.
